


If This Be Heaven (then I choose hell)

by cosmosmariner



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Afterlife, Heaven, Implied Slash, M/M, Religion, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 23:25:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2525558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmosmariner/pseuds/cosmosmariner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was Heaven, after all, and Bucky had to be here. Good people came to Heaven when they died, and Bucky was the best person Steve had ever known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If This Be Heaven (then I choose hell)

The sea rose up to meet him, or so it seemed. He was ready for it; the cold bit into his skin and he hungered for that pain. It made him feel, it washed over him, it almost burned him with its icy chill. And as he lost consciousness, he thought of the reason he did this, the real reason, the single word on his lips as he drifted away towards the darkness of the ocean.

_Bucky_

_I’ll finally be with you again._

The darkness surrounded him, and then there was light. The light was unbearable. His eyes hurt, he squinted and tried to look away but it was impossible. The brightness was everywhere, and as he floated on, he realized that there was sky. There were clouds. The water was no longer surrounding him, and he felt his feet on solid ground.

He looked around. He was in a green copse, a small stone path meandered its way through the trees. He followed the path and walked aimlessly. He felt… strange… a sensation of being in a body and being without one. It was enough to make him want to sit down, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to stop just yet. Finally, he found another path, one paved with brick, and he followed that path to a little bungalow with a swinging porch chair and a little chimney smoking away. It looked so welcoming, homey. Maybe he could stop there, rest a little, catch his breath.

He went to knock on the door when he heard music, and laughter, coming from inside the little cottage. A man’s voice, rich and lively, a clear tenor who rivaled John McCormack. And then he was joined by a woman, whose voice sounded like birdsong.

Steve had heard that voice before, but not in a long time. He knocked. The singing stopped, and the door opened. The woman who stood before him had pale skin, sunny blonde hair, and deep brown eyes that twinkled with good humor. She was slight in frame, short in stature. And the strongest, biggest hearted woman Steve had ever known.

“Ma?”

She smiled. “Oh, my boy, my Steven. You’ve made it for a visit. I’ve someone you need to meet.”

Then a man crossed the room, a man that Steve knew only from photographs and stories. 5’11”, thin, wiry frame, light brown hair and the bluest eyes that Steve had ever seen.

So that’s where he got them.

“You’re… you’re my dad?”

The man smiled, held his hand out apprehensively. “And you’re my own son. Sarah…your mother… well, she told me a lot about you. I wish I could have known you on earth, but we have time enough now.”

Steve looked around, at this impossible cottage with two dead people and nothing but brilliant light surrounding him. “Where are we? And what do you mean by a visit, Mom?”

The man – his father – answered instead. “You’re in Heaven, Steven. At least for a while.”

“I don’t understand. I died. I crashed a plane into the ocean. I’m _dead_. How can I only be here a while?”

His father shrugged. “I only know what I know, and that’s all I know.”

Steve snorted with laughter even though he was frustrated. He’d heard his mother say that exact phrase so many times growing up. “So, if I’m in Heaven, what does this mean?”

Sarah smiled, a placid look on her beautiful face. “Heaven is a place where you and your loved ones gather. Now that you’ve made contact with me and your father, everyone else will start making their way here to see you.”

“Everyone else?”

Joseph – and wasn’t it strange that Steve had a problem calling his own father by his Christian name? – nodded. “The people you had a heart connection with who have made their way here will come to greet you.”

Steve took a deep breath and let his father’s words surround him. The people you had a heart connection with. His mother and father were here. Mrs. Sitko, who used to babysit for him when his mother had to work. She gave him penny candy, and when he and Bucky became friends, she let Bucky stay over, too. Mr. del Potro, who gave him his first job even though he was woefully unqualified, and invited him and his mother to his home every year for Thanksgiving dinner. Mr. and Mrs. Barnes, of course. They would have to be here somewhere; they accepted him as another son, and cared for him when Sarah wasn’t able to.

And Bucky. Bucky would have to come. There wasn’t anyone else that Steve had a closer connection to.

This was Heaven, after all, and Bucky had to be here. Good people came to Heaven when they died, and Bucky was the best person Steve had ever known.

He smiled, took another deep breath, and then release it along with all the tension in his body. He would get to see Bucky again, which was all he wanted.

Time was a construct in Heaven. Steve wasn’t sure if time stood still or if it flew. All he knew was that he was no closer to Bucky here than he was on Earth. Slowly the loved ones trickled into the Rogers’ little bungalow, the one that Steve had found out was Sarah and Joe’s dream home, the one that Joe had tried in vain to save up for before he died. He met his grandparents, and found that he was a lot like his maternal grandfather.

He walked around the green wood every day (night? The light never set; he never had to sleep) with paper that would mysteriously renew itself and pastels that never wore down to nubs. He sketched everything, and the beauty was overwhelming, but there was still a dull shine to it all, a grey cloud that hung over the brightness. And sometimes he would find himself drawing a pair of eyes and using all of his best blue to get that perfect glow, but it never looked right. The eyes never shown with the heat and intensity that Bucky’s eyes shown with.

Days and weeks and months bled into each other, although Steve could still not tell when the day began and ended. A cold feeling of dread settled into the pit of Steve’s stomach. Where was Bucky? This had to be Heaven, right? His mother was there, the rest of his family. If God were merciful and benevolent, as the nuns and priests had always told him, Bucky would be there by his side. It couldn’t be otherwise.

Steve wasn’t sure how long he had been in this mysterious place of perpetual light, but it was much too long. He knew that he wasn’t supposed to feel loneliness here, not in a world of such beauty, filled with people who loved him, but he was, and it was because of Bucky.

He finally saw Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. They had crossed the glen and made their way to the Rogers’ homestead. Mrs. Barnes was young and beautiful again, and Mr. Barnes’ back was no longer stooped due to years of work at warehouses and the dock. Mrs. Barnes hugged Steve, tears streaming down her face.

“Steven… Steven, I am so happy to see you. It’s like having a piece of James here with me, finally.”

Steve stood perfectly still. “Bucky’s not here?”

Mrs. Barnes sniffled. “No.”

“He has to be. I saw it… he has to be!” Steve broke away from Mrs. Barnes and ran into the woods, her voice screaming his name the only thing he could hear.

Steve ran. He ran until his lungs ached, and kept running. He ran past any place he had been to before, unfamiliar landscapes, past family and friends. Finally, he found himself on the shore of a crystal sea, the waves crashing and shining in that eternal, unceasing light.

He fell to his knees and cried out, “God! I have been a good and faithful servant to you, but this is not Heaven. Heaven would never exist without James Buchanan Barnes. If this is Heaven, I don’t want it. God, I don’t want it!”

He closed his eyes, and then it was cold and dark. So dark, so cold, and he felt like he had died again, a harsh pain throbbing in the back of his head, a burning in his eyes. He heard the soft buzz of a radio. A Dodgers game. Steve slowly opened his eyes. This wasn’t the place he was before. Maybe God had finally answered his prayers, and he was wherever it was that Bucky was, be it Heaven or Hell.

Something was wrong, though. He had been at that game. He had been at that game with Bucky. There was no way it was being broadcast on the radio with him lying in that bed.

A woman entered the room. Steve demanded answers. He was a breath away from asking where Bucky was when he decided to make a run for it.

He ran, as he did before. Everything was different, everything was huge and loud and confusing. Suddenly, he was surrounded by people, unfamiliar and strange. A tall, imposing man called his name, and told him he had been asleep for seventy years.

Steve looked around. He understood now what his father had been telling him, that Heaven wasn’t forever for him.

He thought about the blue eyes and mocking smile of the man he loved, the man he had lost, the man who fell to earth and certain death. Heaven did not hold him, and Earth did not contain him any longer. His heart fell to his feet.

_Bucky? Where are you?_

“I had a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> Finally finished this little one-shot! I had read a few meta posts on tumblr about Steve's state of mind before the crash into the ice, and this was my take on it.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I appreciate you more than you know.


End file.
